Life In The Elysium Ch 04

This is my first time writing erotic fiction. I hope you enjoy it, as these scenarios have been floating around in my head for a while. Be aware, this series will include a variety of adult situations, including bisexuality, interracial sex, incest, group sex and other taboo subjects that not everybody may be into. If any of these subjects bother you, there's an entire site here filled with things you may prefer more. In any event, thanks for reading.

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As I showered, again, my mind kept running through every time I'd had a run in with Nyla. I couldn't get them out of my mind, and I was kicking myself for letting her get the best of me during every single one of our interactions. From treating me like staff - I did have them send her dinner up, after all - to enduring the barrage of insults last night and being saved only by Sinclair's convenient arrival, and then giving her another excuse to look down on me in the hallway, I couldn't understand what I had done wrong.

I wasn't the help, but I did what she asked me. And I don't think I was out of line asking for some peace and quiet, even if I had let my temper get the best of me. And yes, I had rushed out of the apartment without cleaning up after sex, but would anybody have been able to tell once I got downstairs? Honestly? The Elysium was luxurious, state of the art and absolutely thrumming with sex. One more guy walking around with pussy on his breath was not going to make an ounce of difference here.

Why was she acting like this? I could only speculate. I don't know how she and Mom got along, but maybe this was some kind of Daddy issues thing. Maybe she didn't want another brother. Maybe she just hated men. Or maybe she just hated me. I had no idea, but I spent a solid fifteen minutes running through all of these scenarios in my mind. Maybe I'd learn more when I had dinner with Mom and Sol this evening. Regardless, it wasn't worth ruining my day worrying about, so I settled on pushing the thoughts from my mind, and focused on getting to know my new home. I grabbed an extra t-shirt and shorts for after the workout and headed to the elevator.

The gyms were located on the 5th floor, the same level as the spa and the grooming facilities. I say "gyms" because there were two of them, and they were segregated by gender. I thought this was surprising, given how the rest of the hotel was laid out - even the bathrooms were gender neutral. It wasn't until I got there that I understood why. The gym was more than just a gym, it was like the locker room of a well appointed golf course. The workout facilities were maybe half the actual space. The rest was given over to a small bar with bottles of liquor, a big screen TV and leather couches, private showers and grooming areas and numbered wooden lockers that gave it an old school feel. This place reeked of masculinity.

It was also packed. Men lounged on the couches, while the sounds of grunting, the clack and clatter of weight machines and barbells mixed with the sounds coming from the TV and the various bikes and treadmills. This was my first time really getting to see the other guests and while I ran through my usual routine of cardio and weights, I gave myself over to people watching.

It was an eclectic mix of men. Every race was represented, men young and men old, and there were a variety of body types as well. Tall, short, some very lean, with runners builds, others beefier and more built. Short hair, long hair, no hair, every color of the rainbow. Some of the guys looked like they would have been comfortable in a Boardroom, others in a Biker gang. One guy had a sleeve of intricate tattoos that started on the left side of chest and plunged deeply into his shorts. There were a few guys who I knew would turn heads, but there were also a few with dad bods who just looked like normal guys. The only thing I didn't see were any truly gross looking dudes - and since this was a male only gym, that wasn't surprising. I knew the type, overweight, undersexed men, divorced or stuck in sexless marriages, who went to the gym to stare at young women in yoga pants. No one fit that description here. After all, being male-only, nobody was coming in here to ogle the ladies. Maybe they were here to ogle the men, and if so, they were in the right place for it.

The decor in here was similar to that in the rest of the hotel, except all the figures in the pictures and paintings were male. I suppose they had acknowledged that not everybody enjoyed watching men engaging in sex acts together, because while many of the men were nude, there was no actual sex taking place in any of the photos. It was more just a feast for the eyes, a celebration of the male form.

It made me wonder what the ladies gym was like. I'd have to ask Mom.

Given how crowded it was, I understood now why the app required a reservation to get in. They definitely wanted to manage the number of men in here at one time, and I appreciated that. I rarely had to wait for a machine and while the wait for the showers was a little longer, it wasn't too bad. I noticed a few pairs of eyes lingering on me while I was working out and I certainly didn't mind the attention. I had to admit I was a bit sexed out at that point - three times in less than twenty four hours was approaching record territory for me, even if this place seemed to work on my hormones in a mysterious way.

There was one older gentleman in particular that seemed to enjoy looking at me. He was tall, as tall as I was, well built but with a few extra pounds around his mid-section. Salt and pepper hair, lighter gray beard, and blue eyes with crows feet and laugh lines around his mouth that seemed like proof that he had lived a pretty happy life. I noticed him looking at me more than once, but he never got up the nerve to come over and say hi. For my part, I'd never been with an older man, but I wasn't opposed to it. Maybe if I hadn't just gotten laid I'd have said something to him myself. Instead, I just wiped down my machine and hit the showers. I'd considered skipping them and just going back up to my room to get changed, but I had already been embarrassed by the smell once today.

Fifteen minutes later I was in the barber shop. The barber shop also had a bar, and I enjoyed a glass of scotch while I flipped through a thirty year old copy of Playboy (I read it for the articles), and waited behind two other patrons who had earlier appointments than mine. An hour later, I walked out, my hair back to its manageable length - just long enough to blow in the wind but not enough to look like I was a soccer mom, and my face clean and smooth. I felt like a new man.

I decided to skip lunch, because the day was more than half over and I had barely had a chance to check out the rest of the hotel. I had eaten pretty well this morning, I thought to myself, a grin flitting across my features as I thought of Isabel.

After going back upstairs to get changed, I threw on a green polo and a pair of slate gray slacks and decided to check out the casino floor.

I mentioned earlier that the Elysium wasn't like other casinos, and it wasn't. Most casinos in Vegas were filled to the brim with slot machines, catering to the lowest common denominator crowd. Those hotels were designed to milk rubes for as much cash as they could, with ever gaudier and louder machines. There wasn't a single slot machine anywhere on the Elysium's gaming floor. It was like stepping back into an old movie. Every game in the casino was a table game. All the usual were there - craps, roulette, blackjack and the like, and there were others that were more high end, like a baccarat room (I laughed when I saw it) and a poker room as well. There was a theater off the main floor that held a sports book, but it was shielded from the main casino floor which was gloriously free of televisions and other distractions. If you came to the Elysium, you were coming for an old school gambling experience in a sensual, sexy setting.

And the place was full. On a Friday afternoon. I couldn't fail to be impressed.

I wasn't that big a gambler, so I just walked through the casino floor, admiring the games and people watching. As in the gym, there was an eclectic mix of people here on the floor. Some were dressed casually, like I was, and others were dressed far more formally. There were plenty of tuxedo jackets and white dinner jackets on men, and the women wore a variety of colorful clothing, from tiny cocktail dresses that left nothing to the imagination to some gowns looked like a multi person job to get into. My favorite new fashion, taking advantage of the new relaxed indecency laws, were women's dresses that bared a single breast. More than one couple were walking together, proudly displaying their assets for the world to see. I saw a number of pairings of young women with older men, and plenty of older women with younger men. There were a handful of same sex couples together, and every race, color and creed was to be found. Black, white, brown and every other skin color were blending together, laughing, having fun. It brought a smile on your face to see it.

It took me a while to notice it, but once you got over the macro level people watching, I began to notice little details that made it clear I wasn't the only one in this hotel who was sexually stimulated by the surroundings. Men casually resting hands on ladies asses, women leaning over to bare just a little too much cleavage or bending over to show a little too much ass, a few couples making out in darker corners. I didn't see any actual sex on the casino floor, but people were certainly not afraid of touching and being touched. There was an electricity in the air, like all it would take was one spark and the place would erupt into a Guinness World Record breaking orgy.

Going back to finish my degree was slowly sliding further and further from my mind.

I continued through the Casino towards the pool deck. Behind the building, shielded from view of the Strip and the roads and surrounded by palm trees and coverings, were three large pools, a lazy river, and a number of bars, including one walk up bar in the largest pool. It was clear the moment that I walked outside that the pools were clothing optional. Dozens of scantily clad women and men lounged around on wooden deck chairs. An equal number walked around completely nude. Rows of cabanas lined the perimeter of the pools, many of which had beds. There were a number of signs posted prominently that forbade private photography - but I noticed the fine print on those signs confirmed that the premises were under camera surveillance by the hotel and usage of the pool area implied consent to being filmed. I realized I'd seen similar, unobtrusive signs like this throughout the hotel, but hadn't really thought about it until now.

I started to realize where the models for all the nude photographs and artwork I'd seen around the hotel had come from. Most, but not all, of the patrons here were attractive. The few that I would have called 5s or 6s were still better than you'd find at most of the other casinos around the city. I had no idea how Sinclair did that. I would have said a clothing optional pool in Vegas was a very risky proposition - between the dirty old men leering and people who had no business being naked harshing the vibe, I wouldn't have thought something like what I was seeing could exist.

It was as if Sinclair took all the best parts of Vegas, mashed them together with all the best parts of a sex resort like Hedonism, and distilled it down into the best of each. It couldn't have been easy, and I knew the place had only recently started making a profit after a number of years of running at a loss. This was the kind of place that took off because of word of mouth, the "you've gotta see this place" campaigns that would take off on social media. The only thing I didn't understand was how they managed to keep the standards so high.

As I was strolling around the pool, admiring the sights and sounds - it was pretty clear the no sex in public thing didn't extend to the pool area - I got a notification on the Elysium app that dinner tonight with Mom and Sol would be in their suite at 9 pm sharp and it was black tie required. I didn't recall any tuxedos in the closet, so I wandered back to the lobby, stopping to admire the threesome fountain briefly, before heading over to the Residence Concierge desk.

To my luck, Misaki was there.

"Good afternoon, Jack," she said, her lilting Japanese accent made my name sound lyrical. "It's good to see you again."

"Hey, Misaki. Thanks again for yesterday," I said, not sure exactly if I should mention what we did, but I didn't want her to think I had already forgotten. She was my first taste of the Elysium, and I was pretty glad it had been her. Even among all the beautiful people and artwork this hotel had to offer, she was on a higher level.

"It was my pleasure. What can I do for you today?" Her question could have provoked any number of ribald responses from me, but I knew she didn't mean sex this time. She was all business behind the desk, just like yesterday. Before, well, you know.

"I know I could probably have looked this up on the app, but I was exploring so I thought I'd ask you," I said. "Is there any way I can get a tuxedo for dinner tonight?"

"Of course. I will have a few delivered upstairs to your suite. Our clothier already has your measurements on file, and it shouldn't take more than an hour or two. Was there anything else you needed," she asked me, smiling prettily. She really was an amazing looking woman, especially with a smile on her face. I hope Sol was paying her well.

"No, I think that's it," I said. I had a few more hours to kill until the tux was delivered, and an idea came to me. I needed help figuring out this Nyla situation, and there was one man I thought I could rely on to help me. "Actually, one more thing. You don't happen to know where Miles is, do you?"

"One moment," Misaki responded. She tapped a few keys on the display behind the registration desk. "Mr. Miles is in Vespers, supervising equipment installation for this weeks musical acts," she replied crisply. "Do you know where Vespers is, Jack?"

I didn't and she was kind enough to escort me to it. The Vespers nightclub was one of the most exclusive nightclubs in Vegas. I'd never been there, but I'd heard from friends who had that it was legendary for its DJ sets and morally casual attitude. Given the nature of the hotel it was attached to, I understood immediately how it had gotten that reputation.

My stock seemed to go up a bit as we crossed the casino floor to get to Vespers, being seen with Misaki. I didn't know if that meant she was well known among the guests, or they just recognized how singularly gorgeous she was. She turned heads along our route, even managing to outdo a tall redhead wearing a red cocktail dress with her left breast bared, a tiny barbell through her nipple, who had been the center of attention before Misaki appeared.

She showed me how to use my phone to unlock the front doors to Vespers - apparently as a family member I had access to almost the entire hotel - and I stepped in.

There's a big difference between being in a nightclub at night when it's open, and visiting one during the day. The lights were on at their maximum, and the cleaning crews were finishing their final preparations for the evening's revelries. The club was huge, with a massive chandelier that housed a variety of strobe and laser lights that would drop from the ceiling periodically during the evening. There were large screens all over the place, dark and powered off. The upper floor had a variety of table areas that looked down onto the dance floor, and there were similar nooks around the main dance floor. I could see in my mind's eye this place filled with gyrating bodies, fueled by loud music, and legal (and some illegal) drugs - it sounded like a fun night.

Like most Vegas clubs, it was only open on the weekends, and this being a Friday, they were set to open their doors a few hours after sunset. I saw Miles on the stage in the front, fiddling with some DJ equipment. I called out to him, and he waved me up onto the stage.

"Jack, my man, how's it hanging?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me into a bro hug. I slapped him on the back, and gestured towards the dance floor and the equipment.

"This is amazing," I said. "I've heard a lot about this place but I've never been here."

"You've gotta see it, lil' bro. It's out of control in here all weekend. Music's banging, lights flashing, girls flashing, GUYS flashing," he laughed. "It's like nothing else in this town. You'll have to stop in this weekend. There's a company table up on the second floor reserved for us, whenever you want to check it out."

"What do you do here?" I asked him, curious. The other night when we were getting to know each other better... among other things... the topic of what he did for a living never came up. I guess I just assumed he was a trust funder, but thinking back I realized I shouldn't have assumed. I felt a twinge of guilt about it - I didn't want to be thought of as a trust fund kid, and maybe he didn't either.

"Dad gave me some bullshit title, 'Vice President of Live Entertainment and Special Events.' My main job is to book the live music talent for the hotel and I'm in charge of Vespers, as well. I also dabble in DJing myself - if we need a warm up act, or if one of our DJs no-shows, I get to spin myself," he said. "Been doing the music thing my whole life, bro. Nothing else I've ever wanted to do."

The passion in his voice when he started talking about music made me smile. I was glad he had something to focus his attentions on. I was honestly jealous - he had what I had been searching for. Unfortunately, I had never been musically gifted. I can hit a baseball, and I'm pretty good in the sack, but sit me at a piano and I'd be lucky if it didn't explode. He didn't seem to be in the middle of anything super crazy, so I decided to plunge ahead with the purpose of my visit.

"Have you got a minute? I wanted to ask you about Nyla," I told him. He barked a laugh and gestured at me to sit with him on the bench of one of the table service nooks close to the stage.

"You barely been here two days, and you already got Nyla on your ass, don't cha?"

I grimaced. "I ran into her in the elevator lobby yesterday, and she thought I was the help," I started to say.

"No, she didn't, bro. She pulls that shit all the time. She thinks it makes her look important to act like everybody around here works for her. She tried pulling that shit on me once, and I just stared at her until she backed down. Don't let her intimidate you," he said.

"Well, it gets worse. Last night she had a loud party that kept me up, and I confronted her about it and I thought she was going to throw me out a window," I said. "Thankfully, your Dad was able to calm her down. And then I may have run into her this morning and she told me I smelled bad. I think I've fucked up, and I don't know what I did or can do to fix it."

He laughed again. He was cute when he smiled. "Bro, chill. Here's what you gotta know about Nyla. She's a prima donna. She's a daddy's girl. But deep down, she's just a kid at heart, and she's scared and lonely. When we lost mom, she took it super hard. She was the 'baby' of the family, and suddenly she was forced to grow up way sooner than she should have. She's always been extremely close to Dad, and super territorial about him. It took her a long time to warm up to your mom," he said. His eyes went a little glassy like he was remembering something. He licked his lips and gave me a half grin. "But she finally came around. Daddy has a way of convincing people to see things his way. And Nyla will do just about anything he wants. Don't sweat it, lil' bro. As long as you get on Dad's good side, Nyla will come around. We're a pretty close family, if you know what I mean."